


Run to the Sun

by earthseed_fic



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseed_fic/pseuds/earthseed_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Lex haven't seen each other in 8 years.  They both feel destined to live their lives alone. They may both be idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run to the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This goes AU after the events of "Shattered" and "Asylum." The events of those episodes, and the events of "Exile," figure prominently.
> 
> 2\. Title taken from a N.E.R.D. song
> 
> 3\. Written for the lovely capitola_black
> 
> 4\. ETA: Fixed the tags, some weird formatting issues, and these notes.

_from Superman Uncovered  
by Lois Lane, Daily Planet _

_When I asked Superman if there were a superwoman keeping him warm in his Fortress of Solitude, he replied, "It would be unfair to ask someone to share my life. It's not exactly conventional." "So you're prepared to spend the rest of your life alone?" I countered. He paused for a moment, so long in fact I thought he might not answer. Then, "My entire planet is gone. I'm the only one of my kind left in existence. I've been alone for a very long time."_

 

**I.**

By the time Clark realized he liked _liked_ Lex, his friend had been gone from Smallville for six months. His first sexual experience (the first not enhanced by Red K, that is--he simply refused to count Jesse or the nameless, countless bodies from his lost summer; Kal might be a slut, but Clark was still a virgin) wasn't with Lana, as he expected, or with Chloe, as he sometimes hoped. Instead it was with Jacob, a Kansas State student earning money working on the Kent farm during the summer before Clark's senior year. They fell into a habit of having lunch together in the back hay fields, Clark happy again for attention from someone older and experienced, Jacob glad to find someone in the small town who had interests outside of artificial cow insemination and the Metropolis Sharks. Clark couldn't pinpoint the moment he knew that Jacob was interested him or when he realized he was equally interested, but he did know that he was practically vibrating with nervous energy the night he met Jacob on the farmhand's last day in Smallville.

He lost his virginity on the couch in his loft, his cock buried in Jacob's hot, wet mouth, fists balled at his side for fear of breaking something (including Jacob). He bit his bottom lip hard as Jacob sucked him, not wanting to wake anyone, but also embarrassed by how good it felt, by all the other places he was imagining Jacob's mouth. But when he felt his cock slide down Jacob's throat and started to come in jerky spurts, it wasn't the farmhand's face that flashed across his mind or his name that escaped his lips with a loud moan.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that we wanted Lex. "Sexy" didn't even come close to describing Lex. Clark could hardly imagine anyone not wanting Lex. No, he shouldn't have been surprised at all, but he was.

After that night with Jacob Clark dreamed about Lex. Dreams where Lex showed up at the farm, in the grey cashmere sweater that Clark always wanted to rub up against, talking about legendary friendships and sports cars and Alexander. Clark always woke from those dreams disoriented and sweaty and wistful. He wished he liked _liked_ Lex before his friend left. Given the way Lex fondled and fellated practically everything in his path whenever Clark was around, Clark was pretty sure Lex would have jumped him had Clark given the slightest indication that he would be amenable.

Who was he kidding, though? Clark knew he would never have made a move. Kal could fuck his way through the Metropolis club scene because he didn't care who knew how strong he was, how dangerous he was. Kal didn't see any reason to keep his abilities a secret. He didn't care who he hurt. But Clark cared, even when caring cost him everything. Even when it cost Lex everything. Clark didn't tell Lex his secrets when he should have and knew, if given a choice, he would never have told. Lex hated being lied to and Clark couldn't do anything but lie.

All that was of little consequence now, though. Lex was gone, probably forever, and all Clark was left with were memories of intense blue eyes and what could never have been.

++++++++

 

Despite Lionel's best efforts, Lex remembered everything.

The night he left Smallville for good, he'd woke up in a cold sweat, the oppressive dark silence of the mansion nearly suffocating him as a flood of memories fought for real estate in the forefront of his consciousness.

_Lionel had killed his grandparents...Lionel and Edge poisoned him...Clark chose him...Belle Reve...Clark ran...Clark in pain...Edge...blood...Clark wasn't human...Clark wasn't human._

Clark wasn't human.

He barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up.

Lex had made a lot of deals with God while he was on the island.

1\. He promised to be a better husband to Helen. True, they'd only been married a short time and he'd hardly had time to be a bad husband. But Lex knew that God understood. His obsession with Clark went far beyond trying to figure out what happened on that bridge. If he could just get off the island, he'd spend less time thinking about how beautiful Clark looked in the sunlight and more time loving his wife.

He considered that promise null and void when he found out his wife was little more than a gold-digging attempted murderer. Even God could expect only so much.

2\. He promised to be a better son to his father. It was possible that Lionel really wanted the best for him. If he was being honest, he did his best to be as difficult a son as possible, and maybe if he were less difficult, Lionel would love him more. If he could just get off the island, he promised to never give Lionel a reason to be disappointed in him again.

The last of his illusions about his father's goodwill died as the first shocks made their way through his brain. Belle Reve was hell on good intentions.

3\. He promised to be a better friend to Clark. He'd stop all his investigations. He'd ignore all the lies. He'd even work really hard to stop fantasizing about Clark's mouth when he should be listening to Gabe's monthly reports. It would all be worth it just to see his best friend again.

When he walked across the Kent yard and felt Clark's arms wrap around him in what had to be the most honest embrace Lex had ever had in his entire life, Lex felt fully ready to keep his promise. He had Clark. That was enough.

It was only lying on a metal table months later, strapped down and caged in with nothing but time that he admitted he was never content with enough.

It wasn't enough to slowly and patiently get out from under Lionel's thumb. He needed to take Lionel down in the most public, humiliating, dramatic way possible. And it wasn't enough to be Clark's friend. He wanted all of Clark, everything he had to give. And what Clark wouldn't give, Lex felt no qualms about taking.

The memories of the lengths he was willing to go to have Clark, possess Clark, came flooding back with all the others. He leaned his head against the cool toilet bowl and laughed a short, hollow laugh. Using Belle Reve and shock therapy to induce some clarity seemed a bit excessive. Even for God.

He didn't have a plan when he left Smallville. He simply retreated into the kind of anonymity and protection only old money could buy. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that he counted himself lucky that Bruce Wayne was one of the few classmates from Excelsior who still spoke to him.

His note to Clark was inadequate, he knew. But he didn't know how to say it all. He didn't know how to say that he'd always been scared of the darkness within him and that the island had brought that darkness closer to the surface. He didn't know how to say he was scared of the lengths he'd go to just to get his father's approval, just once. He was terrified of the things he'd be willing to do for Clark, to protect him, to get him to stop lying. He'd already killed for Clark and that was the least of what he was capable.

He didn't know how to say that he thought he was too far gone to be saved, but he still hoped Clark would never stop trying. He wanted to say all of that and more to Clark, but he didn't know how. So he said nothing at all.

Four years later, when Lionel's death brought him out of exile, Lex was still prepared to live the rest of his life without Clark. Clark was still a tangle of secrets and decisions yet to be made, and even though Lex was pretty sure he'd figured out all of Clark's secrets, he knew he still needed to give Clark room.

If he were being completely honest with himself, which he rarely was when it came to Clark, he was no less obsessed with Clark than he'd been in Smallville. It was better for both of them if he kept his distance.

But four more years later he read Lois Lane's first interview with Superman. After the first reading (and the second and the third), Lex was angrier than he'd ever been. There for the entire world to read were the answers to every question Lex had ever asked about Clark--where he was from, what his powers were, how he got to Earth. It hardly mattered that apparently no one, not even his partner, made the connection between mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent and the garishly outfitted alien-turned-superhero, or that Lex had figured out all these answers years ago. What mattered, what hurt, was that Clark could tell the truth to strangers, but never him.

After a few days of brooding and general terrorizing of his staff, he was able to read the article without firing someone. The fog of anger gone, he kept coming back to the same lines.

_"My entire planet is gone. I'm the only one of my kind left in existence. I've been alone for a very long time."_

Lex was back on the island again, wanting nothing more than to just see his best friend again. Secrets, lies, and other things Lex tried not to look at too closely, be damned. Clark would have to be enough. He sincerely hoped that eight years had made him a stronger man.

****

**II.**

In the last year Clark Kent's life had gotten impossibly more complicated. Though, to be fair, he was a gay, super-powered, crime-fighting alien who was secretly in love with his best friend. So maybe his life was exactly as complicated as it was supposed to be.

Maybe this was his normal.

Somehow that wasn't comforting.

Nine months ago, Lex had shown up unexpectedly in front his building with an offer of breakfast and a ride in a brand new Maserati, as if it hadn't been nearly eight years since they last saw each other. He should have been angry at Lex's presumption (who just shows up put of the blue after eight years without so much as a phone call?) or bothered by how easily he accepted what Lex was offering (if he was reading a little too much into that offer, nobody needed to know). Instead, though, he was grateful, grateful that, at least that morning, he wouldn't be eating alone.

Many of their mornings now began with coffee and bagels at their favorite coffeeshop (conveniently located across from Lexcorp and offering free wi-fi). They took in a movie at least once a month. And several times a week, like today, found them grabbing lunch, normally in City Park, on a park bench beside the lake.

Sitting in the sun, eating street vendor hot dogs, and listening to Lex list his latest stress-reducing strategies ( a "Han short first" t-shirt under his power suit and a copy of the latest Warrior Angel in his briefcase) made Clark hope for things he'd long ago decided were impossible.

"Come to Charleston with me." Lex was the master of the non-sequitur.

"What?"

"Come to Charleston with me. It'll be like old times."

Clark snorted. "Like when I was 15 and too blinded by hero worship to know that tagging along on a business trip isn't really fun?"

Lex bent his head and looked over the top of his sunglasses. "Do you have anything else better to do?" He had the nerve to look incredulous.

"I have a job." Clark was shooting for righteous indignation, but only managed a pout.

"You're a freelance science writer. It's not like you have to report anywhere," Lex said dismissiviely.

"Maybe so. But I still have leads to follow up on, research to do, deadlines to meet. I have a schedule that can't be interrupted on a whim." Even though Clark was certain quitting his job at the Planet to be Superman was the right decision--he was sure it was only a matter time before his frequent, inexplicable absences got him fired anyway and he couldn't risk someone making the connection between Clark and Superman--he still couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed Jonathan in some way. He suspected his dad wouldn't file freelance journalist under "real job." Lex's words hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"Hey." Lex placed a warm hand on his thigh and Clark shivered, despite himself. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to suggest that your work isn't important. I just thought it would be fun. Why are you fighting me on this?"

"We're not fighting," Clark sighed. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

"I'll be gone a whole week." Lex looked away and started toss bits of his remaining hot dog to the pigeons.

It wasn't like Clark hadn't noticed that Lex hadn't been away on a business trip since their reunion. He just never thought that fact had anything to do with him. "You could just say you'll miss me," he teased.

"I could if I were lame." He grinned mischievously. Maybe Clark only imagined the truth behind that smile. "So you'll come?"

"How could I resist an invitation like that?"

 

++++++

 

Since becoming Superman Clark had become quite adept at participating in one conversation while listening intently to another. When he was still working full time at the Planet, there were many occasions that required him to wrap up an interview or meeting before he could slip off to respond to a call or stop a crime. That skill was coming in handy now as he focused his attention across the crowded barn.

Lex agreed to spend their first afternoon in Charleston sightseeing and Clark insisted they do something touristy. Being normal was more important to him now than it had ever been before and he thought it would be more fun to go on a crowded carriage tour with a bunch of people from all over the country than it would be to go on a private tour.

The carriage company they chose was housed in a barn in the middle of the city. Lex waited with a group of others for their carriage to arrive while Clark happily chatted up the employees about the animals (two retired mules from North Carolina named Tar and Nicotine) would be pulling their wagons. He was just about to ask stable hand about the chickens roaming randomly about when the sound of Lex's name being spoken caught his attention.

"Excuse me. Aren't you Lex Luthor?" Clark just barely stopped himself from turning abruptly from the stable hand he was talking to.

Lex stood coolly in the line, dressed casually and elegantly in black linen pants, white linen shirt, and sunglasses, doing his best to be inconspicuous but failing miserably. Even if he weren't one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in the country his designer clothes and general Lex-ian air of superiority marked him as more than just your average tourist.

When Clark could politely pull himself away from the stable hand, he turned to see that Lex's posture was a rigid line and he wore his corporate CEO smile. To the untrained eye Lex looked as at ease as he had a moment before, but Clark could see Lex retreating into himself.

"We can go," he said quietly. People were beginning to steal glances at the pair, delighted to have a celebrity in their midst.

Lex smiled, carefully schooling his features to show none of the strain he was feeling. "I promised we could do this. I'm fine. I've lived my entire life in the public eye."

"Not your whole life." It didn't escape Clark's attention that even though Lex had been back at Lexcorp for several years, he only really stepped into the public eye to be with Clark. If Clark didn't want to see a movie, they skipped it. If Clark wanted to stay in, they did. Just the way he had back in Smallville, Lex seemed all too willing to rearrange his life to suit Clark. That both thrilled and frightened him. He doubted Lex would be so accommodating of Superman.

"Hey," Lex said, pulling Clark out of his thoughts, "you don't have to save everyone, Clark." He had that look again, the one he had so often lately, the one that asked questions Clark was afraid he couldn't answer. He lowered his eyes, but Lex ducked his head to look at him. "Now don't we have a tour to go on?"

Clark stood at his full height and scowled in the general direction of everyone as the line started to move. The stolen glances all but stopped.

Lex elbowed him, not so gently, in the side. "Now you look like my bodyguard. Stop it."

Clark was wholly unapologetic. "It's keeping people from talking to you."

Lex caught his arm and they both stopped walking. "If I wanted a bodyguard I would have hired one. I'd like to go on this carriage ride with my friend. Do you think you can find him in there somewhere?"

When they settled in the carriage, Clark made sure that Lex sat on the outside of their row. If Lex was good enough to do this, at least he could preserve as much of Lex's personal space as possible. If it also meant he got to spend the better part of an hour pressed up close to the man he's loved since was teenager, well that was just a bonus.

++++++

 

The house where they were staying belonged to an old friend of Lillian's. The large screened in porch opened right on to the beach and Clark and Lex sat there, well into the night, talking and listening to the ocean waves crash into the shore.

After Lex had gone to bed and Clark was in his room changing into his uniform, he wished for more evenings like this. He'd forgotten what it felt like not to be alone. But as he caught his reflection in the mirror, his cape looking a lost less impressive when it wasn't flapping in the wind, he remembered that his solitude was a choice, the only choice he really had.

 

**III.**

Lex knew, of course, that Clark went on patrol. After tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, unable to get the sound of Clark's voice out his head and refusing to do what his body was begging for, Lex finally got up and walked down the hallway. Maybe if he could see Clark, even if just for second, he could get a fix and get back to sleep. Only Clark wasn't there. Lex lay awake until 3am. That was when he heard the soft thud of Clark's boots on the back deck and the low creak of the screen door that led into the house.

Since renewing their friendship, Lex had been careful not to ask Clark anything he'd have to lie about. And Clark, Lex knew, was being equally careful about revealing anything he didn't have an explanation for. But now here they were again, back at the beginning, with Lex knowing what Clark wasn't ready to admit. Bruce had told him this is how it would end. He could almost hear his old friend's "I told you so."

Lex had no defense against Clark's lies or against his feelings for Clark. He thought, hoped, after all these years he could feel less intensely about Clark. But if this trip was teaching him anything it was that he felt the same way he did when he opened his eyes on that riverbank all those years ago--Clark was his life line.

He was also really really sexy. He'd gotten up that morning half-determined to confront Clark about his late-night activities. Instead of a heart-to-heart, though, he found himself sitting in the breakfast nook, watching Clark stumble around the kitchen, groggy-eyed, dressed only in boxers and an old Crows t-shirt, muscles straining against the nearly threadbare cotton. It was enough to stop Lex from asking where Clark had gone off to the night before. It would be easier for everyone if he let Clark believe he'd been sleeping. The rest of the world might get Superman, but he had this.

After drinking down a quarter gallon of milk, straight from the carton, Clark noticed Lex watching. "What are you grinning about?"

"Didn't you wake up at 5 in the morning every day of your life, farm boy?"

He flashed one of the gorgeous Clark smiles that went right to Lex's cock. "Sure, but college taught me that noon is much more civilized hour."

They both laughed. Needing to ratchet down his lust a little, Lex got up and busied himself making breakfast. "It's not even eight yet. What are you doing up?"

Clark snatched the toast Lex had just buttered and replied, "I'm having breakfast with a physicist from the university. I have an idea for a book project about the future of space exploration and this guy worked on the Mars rover project."

"Can you still make lunch?"

"Miss the chance to see you eating barbecue?" That smile again. "I'm there"

"Well, meet me in the lobby of Charleston Place at noon. I may need you to occupy Mrs. Moultrie for a little bit. Mr. Moultrie tends toward the gregarious."

"No problem." Clark snagged the other slice of toast Lex had made and downed the rest of the milk before heading off to take a shower before his meeting. Lex leaned back in his chair to watch Clark retreat down the hallway. He ignored the indignant, scoffing Bruce in his head.

 

++++++

 

Lex smiled when he saw Clark across the hotel lobby with Elizabeth Moultrie. If the flush on her cheeks was any indication, Clark was using every bit of his Kent charm to entertain her.

They both rose to greet him as he approached and Mrs. Moultrie leaned in for a kiss. "Alexander, I was just talking to your charming young man."

Lex smiled, sure that he could be just as charming as Clark. "I don't know that I'd call Clark _my_ young man," he replied. "I'm sure there are others who have a better claim."

She hit him lightly on the arm and giggled. "Be that as it may, I'm so glad you felt you could bring him on this trip with you. It says a lot about your character."

He looked questioningly at Clark, who gave a small shrug. "I'm afraid I don't--"

"My son Tripp came out--is that what they call it?-- to George and I his first Christmas home from college. We didn't handle it very well. It's shameful really. After all these years he still barely speaks to us."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clark blushing. "I'm sorry to hear that Mrs. Moultrie."

"Please, call me Libby. Between you and me boys," she went on, leaning in conspiratorially, "I always thought Alexander here was the right person for the deal. You should have seen some of the vultures circling us this last year. You'd think we were roadkill rotting in a ditch for all the courtesy we've been treated with. But then we met Alexander. And now I've met Clark. I think we've made the right decision."

"I hope your husband agrees," Lex replied sincerely.

"I'm sure he will. Why don't you and Clark come over to the house tonight? We're just up the road from where you're staying and we're having a little party tonight. Introducing an artist friend to some potential patrons. Alexander here can keep George from being completely bored and Clark can make me the envy of all the women in the room." The delighted expression on her face, pleased with her own cleverness, let him know there was only one response he could give.

"We'd love to come," he said.

"Lovely. I should go find my husband now. Give you boys some alone time. It was a pleasure to meet you, Clark."

"Same here, Libby," Clark said, still blushing.

When she was well out of earshot, Lex turned to Clark. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing. You told me to entertain her." He started for the door.

Lex followed. "Nothing? You obviously said something, Clark. She's practically ready to host our commitment ceremony."

"I just told her that I was glad that you let me tag along on this trip because I'm enjoying the city." But the blush slowly spreading across Clark's cheeks told him there was more.

Lex had forgotten how flustered Clark could get. And what a turn-on the whole innocent farmboy thing was. "That's all?"

"And that since I'm making you eat barbecue for lunch you'll probably make me go to some fancy French place for dinner because you love nothing better than to get me out of my jeans." A deeper blush as Clark realized how that sounded.

"Clark," Lex said, half indulgent, half exasperated. He had the sudden urge to kiss him.

"What? I just meant that you like to see me in a suit," he said sheepishly.

"If you're going to say things like that, people are going to think we're sleeping together."

Clark stopped walking and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop as well. They were standing right at the hotel's entrance and several people did double takes when they recognized him. "Why? You do love to dress me up," Clark protested. "Besides, it's practically the same thing I used to say when I was 15 and you took me some place. Did people think we were sleeping together then?"

"No." He grinned at the triumphant smile from Clark. "They just thought I _wanted_ to sleep with you."

"Did you?" The blush was almost up to his hairline now. Lex would bet Clark hadn't meant to say that aloud.

There were so many ways to answer that question, so many ways to return them safely to the status quo they settled into over the last few months. But Lex was feeling playful, maybe even a bit reckless. Maybe it was the beach air. He leaned in, as if to whisper a closely guarded secret. He was so close his cheek practically touched Clark's and his voice was low so that only Clark could hear. "Even at 15, in jeans and flannel, you were obscenely hot. Half of Metropolis wanted to sleep with you." He stepped back to take in Clark's stunned expression.

"Oh," Clark said. "I...oh."

"C'mon, farmboy," he called over his shoulder as he went through the hotel's revolving doors. "Barbecue awaits."

++++++

 

After lunch they'd gone back to the beach house. Lex answered messages from his office and Clark did research for his book. They settled into a comfortable silence, working on the screened-in porch, enjoying the afternoon breeze. Everyone once in a while, Lex would look up and smile and the butterflies in Clark's stomach did a little dance.

He was fifteen again, fifteen and very confused.

By the time they retreated to their rooms to get ready for the Moultries' party, all Clark could think about was their conversation back at the hotel and the fact that Lex hadn't really answered his question.

He dressed in the suit Lex had made him buy just for this trip--a grey pinstripe with light pink shirt--and went out into the living room.

Lex was already there waiting for him. It was a moment before Lex said anything. "Wow," he said finally. "You look amazing."

"Thanks." He ran his hand nervously through his hair.

"Actually amazing doesn't even begin to describe how good you look." Lex walked around, hands in the pockets of his own black suit, and made a show of just _looking_ at Clark.

If Clark didn't know better, he would swear Lex was trying to make him blush again. "You're just saying that because you picked out this suit," he stammered.

"Well, I do have excellent taste," Lex grinned.

++++++

 

Clark had asked him once why he came out of hiding.

"The rich don't hide," he'd replied. "We become recluses."

He almost didn't come back. Standing in his new office, the day before his father's funeral, looking out over the whole of Metropolis, he wondered if he would ever get to live life on his own terms, or if he had finally ended up exactly where his father wanted him. Bruce had accused him of brooding; Lex made a crack about the pot and the kettle.

It would have been easy to go back to Gotham, to let Lucas have it all, to hide from his destiny. But the thing of it was this: you couldn't hide from destiny. She would find you no matter where you tried to hide. And this: destiny wasn't a predetermined path you were forced to walk. No, destiny was recognizing when you needed to make a choice.

He'd chosen to leave Smallville before he became the man his father wanted him to be, a man who wouldn't be able to call Clark Kent his friend.

He'd chosen to keep his distance while Clark made choices of his own.

He'd chosen to let Clark back into his life because Clark's happiness was more important than his own fear.

And now, as they walked down the street, slowly making their way to the Moultries' party, Lex made another choice, made the same choice he had been making over and over again for the last nine years.

He chose Clark. Clark may have been a really bad liar. He may have flown around in a ridiculous costume. He may have had a near pathological savior complex. But, at the end of the day, he was still just Clark. And Lex would always choose him.

Liberated by this new clarity and by the fact that everyone at the party apparently thought they were already a couple, Lex gave in to the impulses he'd been fighting since that morning he'd shown up in front of Clark's apartment.

First he just let himself look at Clark, really _look_ at him. Clark's mouth alone was enough to make him believe in a higher power. And when he found himself sitting next to Clark on the sofa while Libby Moultrie regaled them with stories of the summer she ran away from home to follow her hippie boyfriend to Haight-Ashbury, he put his arm around Clark's shoulder and played lazily with the hair that fell over his shirt collar. Clark turned, a thousand questions in his eyes. Lex smiled, a small, warm smile that he hoped answered at least some of them.

Late in the party Lex found Clark standing alone, looking at a few of the pieces the artist had painted. He placed his hand on Clark's shoulder and let it slide down until it came to rest at the small of his back.

"I was thinking some of these pieces would work great in the Lexcorp offices," Clark said. His voice was a little higher than normal.

"I was thinking the same thing." Lex applied more pressure to Clark's back, enjoying the feel of the play of the muscles there as Clark decided whether or not to lean into his touch.

Still looking at the paintings, Clark said, "Not that I'm complaining, but what's with all the touching?"

"Well, if you really were my boyfriend, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

Now Clark turned and grinned. "Why? Because you're such a horn dog?"

"No." Lex leaned in, much closer than he allowed himself to do earlier at the hotel. Clark shivered as he whispered in his ear. "Because you're really really hot."

When he pulled back he expected to see the blush, which was as dependably, adorably sexy, as it always was; what he didn't expect was the determined look in Clark's eyes, as if he were deciding.

"You never answered me earlier," he said.

"When?"

"When I asked if you wanted to sleep with me back in Smallville."

Lex couldn't even begin to imagine how to articulate all that he wanted back in Smallville. So instead he said, "I always imagined our first kiss would be in your barn."

"You've imagined our first kiss?"

"You have a distractingly sexy mouth, Clark. Kissing you doesn't even scratch the surface of what I've imagined."

Clark swallowed, barely stifling a low moan. "So. Do you think we'll ever get that first kiss in the barn?"

"I'm afraid not." It was true. They would never be those two people again. He smiled at the hurt look settling into Clark's eyes. "It turns out that our first kiss will be right here."

The kiss was quick. Clark was a little stunned and caught off-guard. They were both mindful that people were probably watching. There were no tongues, no moaning or grinding or fireworks. It was nothing at all like the thousands of fantasies he'd had about this moment.

But it was still Clark. And it was perfect.

 

**IV.**

Libby Moultrie giggled when they said their goodbyes. Lex thought Clark might die of embarrassment.

They covered the distance between the Moultries' and their beach house much quicker than they had earlier that evening. Even with Lex stopping every few yards or so to pull Clark down for a quick kiss, they were back home in only a few minutes.

They fell into each other as soon as they were inside the house, neither of them holding back any longer. Lex held Clark close, sweeping his hands over the back of his jacket and then under it. He kissed Clark's jaw, his chin, his lips. Clark leaned into the kiss, moaning quietly. Their tongues touched lightly, swirling around each other.

Lex pulled back, taking in Clark's flushed face, the swollen lips, the hooded eyes. He leaned in for a quick lick across Clark's mouth, then took his hand. "Come on," he said.

Inside the bedroom he closed the door and turned to find Clark standing in the center of the room, studiously _not_ looking at the bed. He crossed the room and took Clark's face in his hands. "Hey. You okay? We don't have to."

Clark met his eyes and the naked want there was unmistakable. "I want to. I _really_ want to." He looked down and then back up again. "It's just...I never thought...you know...."

"Yeah. I know," Lex said. He pulled him in for a slow, wet kiss and then pushed him back on the bed. "Why don't you sit back and watch."

He took off his jacket, then pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned his shirt and let them drop to the floor. Clark had settled back on his elbows. He looked every bit the wet dream, with his lips slightly parted and his cock straining against his tailored pants. Lex smiled and continued his strip tease.

He slid his shoes off while he loosened his belt and undid the clasps of his pants. Clark sat up now, pulled off his own jacket and started to unbutton his own shirt. By the time Lex's pants and boxers had fallen to the floor and he stepped free of them, Clark was down to his own boxers.

"Come here," Clark said.

Only too happy to oblige, he crawled onto the bed and leaned over Clark for a kiss. At first Clark simply melted into the kiss, allowing Lex to lead and explore. When Lex shifted, though, and placed his thigh between Clark's legs, bringing their erections into contact, Clark groaned loudly and flipped Lex onto his back. Lex decided right then that he could spend an entire lifetime just kissing Clark, if kissing meant having Clark hot and hard above him, every groan and shudder and thrust begging him for more.

Clark held himself over Lex, grinding with a gentle urgency. Lex thrust up to meet him. "You are so fucking sexy."

Any shyness Clark was feeling earlier was gone now and Lex was immensely grateful because it meant Clark was now busying himself sucking and biting at Lex's neck and shoulders as his hand made its way down to Lex's cock. When he felt Clark's large, warm hand wrap itself around his erection and begin a slow, sensual slide up and down and up and down again, Lex had to concentrate hard on not coming right then and there, even as he planted both feet on the bed and pushed up into Clark's grip.

"I think about you like this all the time," Clark growled into his ear. "I think about all the things I want to do to you." He lifted slightly to look into Lex' eyes. "I want to know what you taste like. I want you to come in my mouth."

Lex had a rule against begging during sex, but right now, with Clark above him licking his lips and looking like sex personified, Lex didn't want there to be any confusion about what he wanted. "Please," he said, "please. Suck me."

Clark grinned, kissed him hard on the mouth and began his tantalizingly slow trek down Lex's body. He licked his scar and kissed down the curve of his chin and neck; he nipped and sucked at each nipple and laid a trail of kisses down to his stomach. Lex was actually shaking with desire and need now, and Clark placed a large, warm hand on his hip to calm him. "Don't worry. I've got you."

He leaned in and licked at the head of Lex's cock before lifting and kissing his stomach and hips. He continued that for several minutes, licking at the head and kissing his stomach, until Lex snaked a hand into Clark's hair and yanked his head up. "Fuck, Clark. Please. Do it."

Clark chuckled and allowed Lex to push his head down. He opened his mouth wide and swallowed Lex easily. He licked and sucked greedily, tongue sliding along the underside of Lex's cock and then back up to the head. Clark's mouth was soft and his tongue was positively wicked and the little sighs coming from Clark as he moved up and down his cock were sending Lex quickly over the edge. Soon, much sooner than he would have liked, he was grunting filthy promises and thrusting wildly, trying to bury himself as deeply as possible in the warm and wet of Clark's mouth. He wasn't going to last much longer and he tried to warn Clark. But Clark shook his head and then let Lex slide down his throat.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he cried. "Fuck, Clark. Suck it. Suck it... beautiful...fuck!" Lex came with a loud, long groan, pumping almost violently down Clark's throat.

When he finally stilled, after what seemed like an eternity, Clark licked and kissed him gently, rubbing soothing hands up and down his thighs, until he was clean and soft, and then Clark slid up the bed for a kiss.

"Mmm," Clark sighed against his mouth. "That was amazing."

Clark's tongue was slick from Lex's come and Lex sucked at it hungrily. "You are entirely too proud of yourself," he said when his brain could form words again.

"You feel so good," Clark moaned into his neck, pinning him to the bed and rubbing against him.

"I want to make you feel good," he replied. "Let me..."

"Don't want to stop." Clark's words were sex-drenched, his voice was low and husky. "I want...I need to...."

"I know. I know." He managed to get Clark's boxers off and now there was nothing between them but the sight and the sound and the _smell_ of sex. Lex groaned loudly as his still wet cock came in to contact with Clark's, the pain and the pleasure of it causing him to see stars.

Clark kissed and bit Lex's shoulders and neck, licked at his ears and sucked his tongue. He reached underneath them both, grabbed Lex's ass in both his hands, pulled up, and started to _move_ , like he was trying to fuck Lex into the bed. "Love this. You. Fuck. Wanna fuck you. Fuck your mouth. And your ass..." Clark went incoherent then as his movements became more frantic.

Clark was hot and sweaty above him, holding him down and Lex knew instantly that this is how he would always want it from now on--possessed, owned by Clark Kent. He felt Clark trembling above him and wrapped his legs around Clark, matching every thrust. He whispered in his ear, "Come on, Clark. Do it. Come for me."

"Fuck, Lex!"

"Don't stop, Clark. Do it. I want see you. Do it."

"Lex."

"God, I'm going to fuck you so hard."

Clark came hard and fast against him. Lex pulled him down for a wet, messy kiss as they rode out Clark's orgasm.

When they were both still and their breathing returned to normal, Clark rolled off Lex and pulled him close. "I missed you so much when you were gone."

Even lying there naked, Clark's still hot come on his stomach, Lex wasn't prepared for the intimacy of those words. Wasn't prepared for how much he wanted to hear them, wanted them to be true.

"Don't leave me." Lex wasn't sure Clark even knew what he saying. He was already half asleep.

He brushed Clark's messy curls away from his face and sprinkled kisses on his forehead and nose and sleepy eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

Clark smiled and pulled Lex closer and they both drifted off to sleep.

 

**V.**

When Lex woke up the next morning, his first thought was that he needed a shower. He was a sticky mess.

His next thought, as he rolled over to check the time on the alarm clock, was that his bed was missing one large, sexy alien.

His third thought was that Clark had gone out on patrol again and every single reason that he and Clark could never work was still there. Clark was still lying and Lex still resented it.

When he got to the bathroom, he found a note taped to the mirror, written in Clark's messy scrawl.

 

_I went out for a swim. The morning sun here is gorgeous. See you at breakfast. --C_

_ps--I'm going to want to see you naked again. Soon._

 

Feeling slightly guilty that he expected the worse, yet knowing it was only a matter of time before Clark lied to his face again, Lex washed up quickly and went to find him.

++++++

 

Clark knew that he wasn't really alone. He had Martha and Chloe. Even Lois's hero worship of Superman provided a certain amount of emotional satisfaction. There were people to whom he mattered and who mattered to him. He didn't take that lightly.

So, no, he wasn't alone. But, God, was he lonely.

So he forgave himself the selfishness of the last few days. If he could only have this for a little while, he was going to take full of advantage. Maybe he wasn't being entirely fair to himself or to Lex. But he got so tired of being fair. Sometimes he just wanted to be happy.

And as he walked up the beach and caught sight of Lex waiting for him on the deck, he wished they both could be this happy for a long, long time.

"Hey," Lex said when he made it back to the house. "Did you have a good swim?"

"Fantastic." He leaned in for long, lazy kiss that elicited soft moans from Lex. "I was just going in for a shower. Care to join me?"

"I've just had one, but I wouldn't mind watching," Lex teased.

Lex followed him back to the bedroom they shared they night before. The sight of the rumpled sheets and their clothes scattered about the room went straight to his cock. He didn't know how he was going to give this up when they got back to Smallville.

He felt strong arms wrap around his waist and light kisses on his back and shoulders. "We have to go back tomorrow."

Clark went stiff. "I know."

"Things are a bit different now than when we left." Lex's tone was light, but he could feel the tension in his body.

But they weren't. Not really. "Lex--"

"You don't have to do this alone."

"I don't--" Clark tried to turn and face Lex, but Lex only held him tighter.

"I spent eight years staying away from you, thinking it would make both of our lives easier. I think I succeeded only in making us both believe were destined for lives of solitude."

"You don't think that's true anymore?" Clark asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"No." Lex was silent for a few minutes. Clark had to remind himself to breathe has he waited for Lex to continue. "I would never hurt you. Never betray you. Even if this doesn't...." Lex was silent again. Even though Clark couldn't seem him, Clark knew he was struggling for the right words. "You're my best friend, Clark. No matter what, whatever else we may be or might become, that will never change." He gave one last kiss to Clark's shoulder. "Just remember that. Okay?"

Clark nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

Later, after Lex had gone to meet the Moultries and Clark was alone in the shower, he wondered how it could be so easy for Lex to believe in impossible things. Then he remembered a conversation, a million years ago it seemed, when Lex told him he believed a man could fly. Maybe the things Lex believed weren't so impossible after all.

He was shaken out his thoughts by an insistent beep coming from his bag. The only person who had access to that device had never used it before. All other options needed to be exhausted before Superman was called in.

He supersped himself dry and into his uniform before picking up the communicator. "Mr. President?"

"Superman! Thank god," came the voice from the other end. "It's urgent. How quickly can you get to Corto Maltese?"

++++++

 

By the time they'd played 9 holes, Lex was the new owner of the third largest shipping company on the east coast. By the 18th hole, Moultrie had invited him and Clark to spend Christmas with him and Libby in Paris. All in all, Lex was having an excellent day. The only thing that could make it better was Clark.

He'd had to cancel lunch. He and Moultrie had been close to a deal and Lex hated to stop the momentum of their negotiations. He'd called Clark to apologize and explain, but had gotten Clark's voicemail. He was hoping Clark would call back, even if it was just to pout. He'd become happily accustomed to talking to Clark several times a day over the last several months and found it a little disconcerting not hearing Clark's voice for more than a few hours. Especially given Clark's mood when he left that morning.

He sighed in frustration when he got Clark's voicemail again. He was crossing the lobby of the clubhouse and leaving Clark yet another message when he noticed that a small crowd was gathered around the television behind the bar.

A pretty blond reporter, looking unusually unnerved and shaky, was talking. "...arrived after political dissidents seized a nuclear submarine in Corto Maltese. We are getting conflicting reports about whether or not the dissidents intentionally launched the warhead. What is clear though, as this footage shows, is that Superman intercepted the warhead and flew it out of the atmosphere." Lex watched in horror as footage of Clark being knocked backward by the force of the warhead hitting him hard in the gut played over and over again on CNN. "We're still waiting for official confirmation from the Department of Defense, but satellite reports indicate that the warhead exploded 4 hours and 22 minutes ago. There have been no signs of Superman since."

Lex didn't realize his knees had given out until he hit the floor.

 

**VI.**

It was several minutes before Lex realized that the person repeating "no no no no" was in fact himself. He heard Libby Moultrie's voice as if she were speaking to him from a great distance. "Get up dear," she was saying. "Sit over here."

The room came into focus as he made his way on shaky legs to the chair Libby was pointing to. Several people had turned their attention away from the television and were now staring at him. He suddenly realized what he must look like--devastated and inconsolable, while everyone else was simply stunned. He knew instantly what he needed to do. He had to protect Clark's secret, make sure Clark had a life to come back to. He refused to allow himself to think about what would happen if Clark didn't come back.

"Can I get you some water, dear?" Libby was talking to him again, patting his arm soothingly.

"Yes, water, please," he managed.

She motioned to someone and sat down next to him. "It's awful news, isn't it? Do you think he's really gone?"

"No," he said so quickly that Libby was startled. "I mean, it's...it's not Superman. It's Clark." He remembered something Lionel told him about lies--the best ones are always rooted in the truth. "He covered Corto Maltese when he worked for the Planet. He flew out there this morning. I haven't heard from him all day. I didn't know things had gotten so bad."

"Oh my goodness! Do you think he's alright?"

"I have to believe that he is." What else could he do?

By 11:00 that evening there was still no sign of Superman. The Department of Defense had issued a statement reporting that the warhead Superman intercepted was an 800 kilo-ton bomb, equal to 40 Hiroshomas. Superman had managed to fly the warhead far enough into space that its detonation caused no damage to the surface or the atmosphere. Most of the satellites in the western hemisphere, however, were incapacitated.

In the absence of any further news, the cable networks resorted to talking heads and horrifying computer simulations speculating about the possible damage an 800 kilo-ton bomb could inflict on a being purported to be indestructible. The general consensus seemed to be that Superman was almost certainly killed in the explosion. The parlor game now was guessing exactly how he died.

Back at the beach house, Lex couldn't sleep. Neither he nor Clark had bothered to pick up their clothes or make the bed when they'd left that morning. Lex's pillow still smelled Clark. Lex couldn't stand to be in that room even for a moment. And Clark's things were still in the room he'd been using--a small pile of books on space exploration on the bedside table, his sneakers in the middle of the floor, his clothes spilling out of his suitcase sitting in the middle of the bed--as if he'd just gone to the store or out for a swim.

He'd given up leaving messages and had turned off the television because it was making him, literally, sick. He paced up and down, trying desperately to think of something he could do to make him feel less impotent. When that failed, he counted to 1000 in all the languages he knew. Twice.

By dawn, he had worked through his panic. By noon, he had his plan.

Clark needed him to keep his secret, to make it possible for Clark Kent to continue to have a life apart from Superman. That meant Lex had to get on the jet back to Metropolis, just like they planned. If Clark really had gone to Corto Maltese to cover the incident for the Daily Planet, Lex wouldn't just hang around Charleston. He would finish his business trip and head back to Kansas. He and Clark would meet up at home. Lex had to leave. He had to keep up appearances.

As hard as it was to pack up Clark's things (the simple housekeeping task hit far too close to home), Lex managed to have everything ready when his driver arrived. He'd said goodbye to the Moultries, promising Libby he would call her as soon as he received word from Clark. He found himself, again, relying on lessons learned at Lionel's knee. Never before had he been so thankful for the ability to swallow his emotions.

When he arrived in Metropolis and there was still no word from Clark or Superman, Lex almost called Martha. With Jonathan gone, Clark was all she had left. She was probably beside herself with grief. But what could he say to her, a woman whom he hadn't spoken to in almost a decade, a woman who had kept her son's secret longer than any of them, a woman who knew better than he ever could what it meant to love Clark and wait for him to come home? Instead of calling, he sent a security detail the Kent Farm. He could at least keep Clark's mother safe.

++++++

 

The blast had stunned him, and even then he recovered quickly.

He'd flown immediately to the Fortress. The AI gave him a clean bill of health. No internal damage. Not a scratch or a bruise. Clark made the AI check him again.

He should have felt relieved. He should have immediately called his mother. Called Lex. But he couldn't.

He was horrified. He was dangerous. Too dangerous for anyone to get close to.

++++++

 

On his second day back in Metropolis, Lex opened the paper to find a story filed by Clark Kent from Corto Maltese. It was good story really, displaying brilliantly Clark's penchant for investigative journalism. There was certainly an award in his future.

Knowing the answer already, Lex picked up his phone anyway to check his messages.

Clark must have a good reason, he told himself. He focused instead on his relief that Clark was okay.

On the third day, Lex's security spotted Clark at the farm. Superman gave a press conference in Metropolis. And Lex stopped giving a damn about Clark's good reasons.

++++++

 

Clark found Lex that night at Lexcorp party. He worked the room effortlessly, charming and intimidating all at once. Everyone wanted his attention. As soon as Clark walked in the room, though, no one existed but the two of them. When Lex turned to face him he could see, all over his face, Lex trying to decide which emotion to settle on--relief, anger, betrayal, disappointment. Clark wanted to believe he saw lust in there, too, but that could just be wishful thinking. Or projection, since, even now, even in this moment, when the thing he'd wanted the most for so long was about to be lost to him forever, and he should be feeling miserable (or scared or heartbroken or anything besides horny), all he could think was that no one could stalk across the room quite like Lex Luthor.

Lex stopped a few feet from him. In the short distance he'd been able to get his emotions under control. His face was now an expressionless mask. Clark wanted to reach out and touch him, but knew better. "We need to talk."

"I thought we weren't doing this anymore."

"I know. I don't expect--"

"On the contrary. You expect a hell of a lot, Clark." There was a flash of anger in his eyes. "But I can't do this right now. I still have a company to run."

The beach house in Charleston seemed like a million miles away. "I'll just go. Maybe--"

"No." Lex reached out, but stopped just short of touching him. "Stay. I need--" As he watched Lex fight with himself about how much to reveal, how much of himself to offer, Clark realized how much of their relationship depended on the things they refused to say to each other. Lex sighed, "Just stay."

++++++

 

Neither of them spoke as they rode the elevator to the penthouse. When the elevator doors opened, Lex headed straight to the bar for a drink.

Taking some comfort in the smooth burn of the scotch down his throat, Lex finally turned to look at Clark. He was sitting on the couch, trying to take up as little room as possible and failing miserably. Lex was angry, maybe angrier than he had ever been at Clark. Because while he finally understood exactly what Clark had been trying to protect him from, why Clark believed he was better off alone, the fact was that he wasn't alone. Lex loved him. He was pretty sure Clark returned to the sentiment. And you just didn't do this kind of thing to people you loved.

It was hard to stay angry, though, with Clark looking so much like a kicked puppy.

He sat down on the sofa, close enough to touch Clark. Clark opened his mouth to speak, but Lex stopped him. "If this is going to be your big revelation about Superman, forgive me if I'm neither shocked nor awed."

Clark showed no sign of surprise. Of course he knew that Lex knew. How could Lex not have known? "Why didn't you say anything?"

That was simple. "Because you didn't want me to."

"I never--"

"Of course you didn't. You didn't have to. Let's just say we both have messed up savior complexes and go from there."

Clark shifted closer and Lex simply gave in. He slid his arm across the back of the sofa and let Clark settle into him. Clark wrapped his arms around Lex's waist and Lex knew nothing had ever felt so good. It was time to reveal secrets of his own. "Why didn't you come home?" he whispered into Clark's hair. "I was so scared."

"I was scared, too," Clark said quietly.

Lex pulled back and forced Clark to look up at him. "Scared of what?"

"Myself."

"I don't understand."

Clark untangled himself from Lex and walked across the room. Lex followed. "I didn't feel anything, Lex. It didn't even knock me out."

"That's a good thing, Clark. You're safe. You're home." Lex reached for him again, but Clark spun around.

"It's not a good thing!" Clark's voice was little hysterical. Lex could see, all over his face, the past several days' events catching up with him. "I'm a monster. It was a nuclear bomb, Lex. A fucking nuclear bomb. I should be dead. A normal person would be dead."

"You're not a normal person, Clark."

"Why do you want me, Lex? I'm a freak. A dangerous freak. You should get as far away from me as you can."

"I could say the same thing about myself, Clark. Maybe it's you who should run."

"This isn't funny, Lex."

"I'm not laughing." Lex tried reaching for him again, and this time Clark didn't pull away. You're not a freak, Clark. And you're not alone."

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what I'm capable of."

"That's because you've never told me." It hurt that Clark had lied to him. He could see now that it hurt Clark, too.

"You can't un-know this Lex. This isn't information you can walk away from." Clark was looking at him intently, willing him to understand.

"I know that Clark."

"Do you? Do you really?" Clark pulled away and was back across the room in the blink of an eye. "I'm not some conquest, you know." Some of the hysteria was back. "You don't win because you know. You can't just fuck me and leave."

The words hit Lex like a blow and he had to remind himself that, all things considered, Clark was having a really rough week. "I'm going to assume having a nuclear warhead detonate around you leaves you feeling incredibly vulnerable and emotional," he said as he crossed the room to Clark. "I'm going to assume that you didn't mean to insult me or my feelings for you." Clark looked defeated. "Look at me, Clark." Lex ducked his head to meet Clark's eyes. "Look at me."

The look in his eyes was devastating. Clark was lost. "Why do you want me?"

"How could I not?" Lex said. He leaned in for a soft, quick kiss. "I made my choice. A long time ago. It just took me a while to figure it out."

"Really?" Clark's voice was quiet, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Really."

"Can we go to bed? I'm exhausted."

Lex had spent eight years of his life wondering if he had the strength to survive a relationship with Clark Kent. He now understood he could never survive without him. "Anything you want, Clark," he said as he led him to the bedroom. "Anything you want."

**FIN**


End file.
